


won't you carefully rest

by Doranwen



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Hotels, Hurt Eliot Spencer, Illness, Medicine, Team Bonding, on the road
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26007394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doranwen/pseuds/Doranwen
Summary: Eliot felt a poke, and opened his eyes to see Parker peering at him."Something's wrong with Eliot," she proclaimed.Parker's the first to notice, but they all have their own ways of taking care of Eliot.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64
Collections: Fandom Giftbox 2020





	won't you carefully rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [River_Song](https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Song/gifts).



> This is set sometime between The Ho Ho Ho Job (3x14) and The Big Bang Job (3x15), assuming the latter occurs in the spring at some point.
> 
> You asked for sweet, fluffy, and a wee bit silly. I hope I got close enough to those for you! :)
> 
> Big thanks to my beta Elfwreck!

"Who wants next shift?" Nate called from the driver's seat. "Eliot?"

"Me!" Parker said with glee, waving a hand in the air.

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me you see the speed limit as a mere suggestion, so no."

Eliot shook his head. "Someone else can."

"Then it's your turn, Hardison."

Sophie gave Nate a reproving look as she exited the passenger side. "How very sexist of you, Nate. Only the men get to drive?"

"That's because I value the lives of the team enough not to let you get behind the wheel," he remarked dryly.

The expression she turned his way was a half-hearted glare, which Nate ignored in favor of parking himself in the passenger seat and reclining the seat.

Eliot turned from his seat to Parker, who was sprawled across the backseat of the van they had purchased. Their just-completed job had drawn the attention of a few authorities, and it wasn't yet safe for them to fly. And of course, it happened to be in Indianapolis, which meant a 14-hour drive split over two days. They'd agreed to pit stops every two hours for both passenger comfort and driver swapping, but Eliot suspected he was feeling the consequences of the unwanted dunking he'd experienced a couple days ago. The White River in March was not the warmest place to be, and although he'd gotten into dry clothes before hypothermia could set in, he'd done a good deal of shivering. Plus he'd slept poorly in his hotel room, as usual whenever he was away from whatever place he'd decided was home. The combined effect was (as far as he could tell) a slightly elevated temperature, a general ache in his bones, and a fatigue that had him unwilling to be responsible for the safety of the other four as their driver.

"I'm going to pick up some snacks," Hardison declared.

"And I'm going to visit the ladies' room. Last call for the next two hours," Sophie said before turning to head into the gas station's convenience store.

Parker scrambled past Eliot to the doorway. "What about you, Eliot?"

He shook his head gently, trying not to worsen the headache that had started a few minutes ago. "I'm good," he said.

Parker squinted at him for a second, then let go whatever question had been forming in her mind and climbed out.

The van was blissfully quiet for the next five minutes, and then the others returned one by one. Sophie settled into the seat next to his with a small pile of magazines and began flipping through them. Hardison had more orange soda and gummy frogs, along with a dizzying array of other salty and sugary junk food. One minute after he settled in the driver's seat, the air was filled with the smell of the chemicals in the "food"; Eliot wanted to wrinkle up a nose but didn't have the energy to pick an argument with him over it. Parker returned to her position on the blankets, but not before snagging a bag of candy from Hardison over the protests of the other three; Eliot decided it wasn't worth the effort to get involved this time.

And then Hardison switched on the stereo and started playing some rap (causing much grumbling from Nate and Sophie), and the headache turned into a pounding in Eliot's head. He turned away from Sophie and gritted his teeth. He had been through worse experiences than this, but it didn't make it any more pleasant.

The next two hours passed in a pain-filled blur, and Eliot hardly noticed when the van slowed to a stop and the rap ceased. The van door opened, bringing a cool breeze, and he instinctively turned toward it.

"Welcome to Akron," Hardison announced from the front seat. "We stopping here for the night?"

"It's only 5:30," Nate pointed out. "We could get some supper and drive another stretch still."

"And end up in the middle of nowhere? No thanks," Hardison said.

Eliot felt a poke, and opened his eyes to see Parker peering at him.

"Something's wrong with Eliot," she proclaimed.

"What?" Sophie's voice echoed from farther away, and Eliot could hear her returning to the van.

"He doesn't look good. See, he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open," Parker said.

Eliot opened his eyes fully and tried to growl at her, but the sound came out half-hearted enough that he knew it wouldn't convince anyone. Parker stepped aside for Sophie, who reached a hand up to press against his forehead. Eliot tried to twist away. "I don't need—" he began.

"You're burning up!" Sophie exclaimed. "Nate, we need to stop for the night. Eliot's coming down with something."

"I'm fine," he argued, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to what he said.

Nate began barking out orders. "All right, Hardison, pick us some rooms. Sophie, see if you can find something for us to eat. Parker, head to the nearest drugstore and _buy_ some medicine for cold or flu."

Parker rolled her eyes at the emphasis on legal acquisition of supplies, but she and Sophie scattered quickly, and soon all that could be heard from Hardison was slight mumbling under his breath as he tapped on his keyboard. Nate unscrewed the top to one of the bottles of water they had bought for the trip and handed it to Eliot. "Drink," he ordered.

Eliot scowled but did as he was told; he _was_ a bit parched, and the cool liquid felt good as it rushed down his throat. He handed the bottle back to Nate after drinking about half of it, closing his eyes again. There was nothing he could do at this point to get them home any faster, and he might as well rest while he had the chance. No doubt the women would be back soon enough, and he could count his blessings—at least Hardison was occupied choosing their hotel rooms and Nate was only a quiet presence next to him.

"How did you divide us up?" he heard Nate ask Hardison in a low voice. Hardison must have just shown Nate the computer screen, because the next words were also Nate's. "No, switch us. You and me, yes."

"All right, done." Some rustling as Hardison shifted, and suddenly his voice was a lot louder. "Hey man, sorry we didn't notice earlier."

Eliot cracked open his eyelids. "Hardison?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Eliot closed his eyes again, a tiny smirk on his face, and let himself relax as the van went quiet once more.

* * *

"I can walk just fine," Eliot growled at Hardison, who was looking far too solicitous for Eliot's liking. His body might ache worse than before, and he might have to fight to keep from visibly shivering at times, but he was perfectly capable of walking without a human crutch, damnit!

"You need some of this!" Parker announced from less than a foot in front of him, waving one of the medicines she'd bought in front of his eyes.

"Not now, Parker," he said, concentrating on climbing out of the van without stepping wrong. _Probably not at all, for that particular one._ Drugs that made his head fuzzy were the worst.

"Parker, leave everything in the bags for now and just carry them in," said Nate. "I'll get our room keys."

"I guess that means we get the luggage," Sophie said to Hardison with a sigh. They loaded themselves with the team's suitcases and followed Nate in. Parker trailed them, walking at Eliot's side and watching him suspiciously.

"Parker, I'm not going to fall over," Eliot told her in hopes she would give him a few more inches of space.

She leaned in closely, and Eliot had to restrain his impulse to shove her away from his face. "Are you sure?" she asked after a minute. Her nose was inches from his own, and he was afraid their heads would collide with any sudden movement.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Parker leaned a few inches back but made no move to get out of his personal space, and Eliot resigned himself to the invasion. She remained glued to his side all the way up the elevator, following Eliot into the room Nate indicated. The bags in her hands were soon dumped onto the desk and emptied, and a wide assortment of medicines for cold and flu tumbled out.

"Parker, that's more medicine than I could take if I were sick for a month, and that's assuming I'd even take most of them," Eliot pointed out.

"Nate said to get medicine for cold or flu!" Parker's face was defensive, and Eliot half-imagined her lower lip pouting. "And you need to take something!"

He sighed. He could fight her on it, but some days it wasn't worth arguing with Parker. "All right, let's see what all you have."

"This bottle has NyQuil and this one has DayQuil," Parker announced, holding each up before plonking them back on the desk and grabbing some more, as if she were doing an advertising pitch. "And this one is Theer-a-Flu—"

Eliot closed his eyes briefly. "Theraflu, Parker, it's pronounced Theraflu."

Parker frowned. "It looks like 'Theeraflu'."

"Parker—"

She ignored him and went on. "And I got Mucinex and Benadryl and Tylenol Cold & Flu—"

Eliot decided he better interrupt her before she tried to get him to swallow any of them. "I'm not taking any of those."

"You need to take something! You're sick!"

Parker's indignation elicited an image of her with hands on hips, scowling at him; Eliot tried not to grin at the thought. "Yeah, but all of those make my head all muzzy. Can't think straight if I take 'em," he pointed out.

"Oh." Her face dropped as quickly as the bottles of pills onto the desk.

Eliot tried to think of something he _could_ take, in hopes that would wipe the dejected look off her face. "You said you had Tylenol Cold & Flu; did you get any other Tylenol? Something that doesn't say 'cold & flu' on it?"

"Oh, yeah, I did!" She fished a bottle out of the pile and shook it as she held it up.

Eliot squinted at it, recognizing the colors for the extra strength variety. "I'll take that. It'll take the edge off the headache and keep my fever down without messing with my head."

Parker beamed at him, then bent her head to inspect the label. "It says to take two caplets every six hours while symptoms last, but that you shouldn't take more than six in 24 hours."

Eliot merely sighed and held out a hand.

Parker cracked the bottle cap open and poured the requisite two caplets into his palm, then handed him a half-full bottle of water. "Nate said this was yours."

He washed the pills down with a healthy swig from the bottle. "Satisfied now?"

"What about this?" She held up a jar of Vicks Vap-o-Rub.

"If my sinuses were congested, maybe. Right now I don't even need that. Or that," he added, seeing her hold up a bottle of Motrin.

Parker dropped it and frowned, looking over her purchases. "What about the cough drops? I got Halls and Sucrets and Ricola."

"Sure, I might need 'em later." Eliot wasn't lying; he could feel his throat getting scratchier the more he talked with her. "But not right before supper."

Parker's face grew solemn as she looked at him. "You have to get better quickly. You're not supposed to be sick."

"I'll be fine, Parker. Thanks for—" he waved his hand vaguely at the desk and its array of medications.

Her answering "you're welcome" was interrupted by Hardison poking his head in. "How're you doing, man?" Hardison asked.

Eliot scowled at him. "I'll be _fine_. You're acting like I'm incapacitated or something. Just need a good night's sleep."

"Parker?" Sophie's voice called from outside the door, and she slipped past Hardison to answer it.

"Well, hopefully Nate doesn't snore or anything, so you can get that," Hardison said. "Because, you know, I had totally put you in my room, so I could keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't suddenly get worse in the night, but he insisted that I switch rooms with him, so you got him for a roommate."

Eliot attempted to follow Hardison's rambling but quickly ended up tuning him out. "Whatever," he muttered, which only started a fresh stream of words from Hardison's mouth. Eliot ignored them all; his body had been sending him signals that he needed to deal with all the water he had drunk earlier, so he stood up and walked to the bathroom. The words ceased as he closed the door, and he smiled to himself.

When he emerged again, Sophie was at the desk, putting the unneeded medications back in the bags. She turned at his approach. "I brought you chicken soup," she said, gesturing to a large take-out carton sitting on the edge of the desk. She pulled out the chair and stood behind it, gazing at him expectantly.

Eliot sighed and made his way over to the chair, sinking down onto it and opening the carton. Steam rose from it, warming his face, and small asparagus spears floated on top. He rummaged in the bag to find a spoon. Sophie had moved to the doorway, but was watching him, no doubt waiting to make sure he was going to actually eat before she left. He could feel the warmth spreading as he swallowed the first spoonful. "It's good. Thanks," he told her.

"You're welcome." She turned to leave, then paused, looking back at him, her face thoughtful. "I hope you feel better tomorrow."

Eliot nodded, swallowing another spoonful.

* * *

Eliot had managed to get all of the soup into his stomach and was lying in the nearest of the two beds, burrowed under blankets to ward off the perceived chill. He wasn't actually tired enough to sleep quite yet, but he didn't feel like going anywhere, either. He had popped one of the cough drops into his mouth, mostly because he suspected Parker would ask tomorrow if he'd had any. It helped his throat, sure, but he didn't actually _need_ it, he reasoned.

Just as he was contemplating the effort needed to reach the remote, the door opened and Nate entered. His glance around the room took in the empty carton of soup on the desk, the over-plentiful supply of medicines, and Eliot's position with barely a flicker of his eyes. He proceeded to the other bed, sat down on the edge of it, and began to remove his shoes.

"I thought—" Eliot began, a little confused.

"That you were in with Hardison?"

Of course Nate knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah."

"Ah, I thought you might appreciate a bit more quiet."

Well. That was certainly true; Hardison had yet to learn how not to irritate when one had a headache. Or at any time, really. Eliot answered him with a slight nod.

Nate set his shoes out of the way and grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels before settling on a hockey game, volume low. He flicked the lights off and settled back against the headboard to watch.

Eliot attempted to follow the game for a bit, but soon started losing track of who was scoring. _Huh, I'm sicker than I thought._ Hopefully some solid rest and lots of liquids would take care of it quickly.

He suddenly became aware that Nate was talking to him. "—needed time off, and I didn't give it to you—"

What? Was Nate trying to apologize for something? "I'll be fine," Eliot interrupted Nate. "Just need a good night's sleep," he mumbled. A yawn caught up to him, and he settled into the bed more deeply.

Eliot was vaguely aware of the TV clicking off and Nate heading into the bathroom. He pulled the covers up to his chin.

"You need to sleep so you'll get better quickly," a whisper came from the direction of the air vent.

"Good night, Parker." He unscrewed the cap from his bottle of water on the table next to the bed and downed most of it before screwing the lid back on.

"Good night, Eliot," came the reply after a moment.

Eliot smiled and closed his eyes.


End file.
